


In My Arms Lies Eternity

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Tales of the Champion [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.In my arms lies Eternity.





	In My Arms Lies Eternity

“As your companion,” Fenris started, “I demand to know why you did not want me to come.”

They were not in the house when he said this, and Hawke, who had been stopped by the door of their new home by her husband, knew that this was not going anywhere good. She’d thought she was prepared for this conversation once she left Varric and the Inquisitor (a nice Dalish mage), but obviously she had forgotten how fiery Fenris’ temper could be when he was impassioned. He was pacing before he said these words, and though Hawke did not know if she was allowed to reply, she thought she should try.

“Well,” Hawke began, but she was immediately cut off by his not-so-calm vitriol.

“As your  _ husband _ ,” he snapped, and Hawke knew she was in for it, “I demand to know why you went  _ at all _ .”

She wet her lips, eyes closing just slightly as she noted how he’d said “husband” and tried not to derive joy from how assertive he was about that position. “There's no good answer to that, Fenris,” Hawke started rather gently, “it was that I thought it was the right thing to do. My love, you can't hold that against me can you?”

He could not. “Why would you keep me away, then? Does it make you happy to leave me worried about your fate?”

“I just…” She shrugged, determined to play it off. “I wanted you to be safe.”

“You ask safety for me but not your own. By the Maker, Hawke, I don’t know why I put up with you.” He sounded tired, exasperated, and Talia could only nod. 

It had been more than a week since her last trip to the Fade, and after going she’d realized that some things were just not punchable. Which was unfortunate. The information was quite valuable, though. Especially for a warrior like her husband.

“Fenris, I don’t want you to get hurt, or die, or...whatever else could happen to you,” she insisted. “I’ve….made a lot of mistakes. Maybe sometimes I think I should pay for them instead of laughing them off. Corypheus was one of those mistakes.”

“That wasn’t  _ your _ mistake,” he hissed. “I was  _ there _ . It was all of our mistakes. And yet you and the dwarf go to ‘fix your mistake’ as though the rest of us do not exist or care about you at all.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “I need...air.”

She knew it was because he didn’t want to yell, and she appreciated it. He was right to be mad at her. She’d been irresponsible, and might have even perished in the Fade. “I’ll put on some food,” she offered, and he turned his head, closing his eyes as he walked past her and down the street. 

Staring at the empty pot made her wonder how to make it up to him. She  _ had _ been foolish, after all, and though what she’d done had outweighed the alternative- Fenris coming along and doing something dangerous (since the man could not sense floor traps to save his life) or worse- it was still painful to have put him through such an ordeal. 

She eyed the dust on the counters.  _...though I know he hasn’t been here for most of that time. _ Varric had said something about slavers, right? She wanted to ask about it. That could have been fun.

When he returned, she realized she’d been staring at the pot of stew she’d put on for as long as he’d been gone. A deep sigh escaped her; watching the flames lick against the pot was almost calming, somewhat hypnotic and monotonous against the domestic light of their home, and she wondered why she’d ever left. 

“Fenris,” she started to say, unable to look up at him when she heard him enter, but before she could finish, he’d pulled her into his arms, fingers tangling in the white fluff of her hair in such a gentle way that she realized abruptly that she’d missed his touch. 

“I was terrified,” it felt like a breeze, a ball of anxiety carefully unravelling, a bag of winds pulled free from a mortal’s grasp. “I thought…” His voice broke off, like if he said what he had been thinking, what he had  _ feared _ , it might cause it to come true, break him to pieces.  

Why did she melt into his arms like that? Like there was nowhere in the world she would rather be, or snow on the grasslands come spring. His shoulders were tense, muscles taut, and all she wanted to do was kiss him. Maybe hug him for a few hours for extra measure. To make promises she would keep, no matter the cost. 

He’d done something different to his hair. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it at first, knowing only that he was different, that he  _ looked _ different. He’d cut it on the sides. It looked good on him, and her hands gingerly came up to touch the shorn parts, especially when he pulled away enough to look at her. “I know,” she whispered. How selfish could she have been, to even think of leaving him behind? “You needn’t say it.”

The silence that came afterward wasn’t as awkward or stale as she expected; he was watching her features carefully, and though she couldn’t entirely see his face when she busied herself with his hair, they both knew she was avoiding the real issue here. That she really could have died. That it might have even been what she wanted.

“I-” Her throat felt dry, crackling in tandem with the wood in the fireplace beside them as she turned her head away from him. Deliberately, she cleared her throat, hoping that when she swallowed it would solve the problem. “Did Varric send you a letter?”

The lines around his eyes tightened. “He did.”

A part of her was pleased to remember how good he’d gotten at reading, but another part half-whispered, “Did he say….anything unflattering…?”

“He wrote a great many things,” Fenris admitted gruffly. 

“You...aren’t going to tell me what?”

“No.” He  _ was _ still mad at her, after all. 

“...right. Sorry.” She sort of coughed, though she didn’t untangle from his gentle hug. “I forgot I’m still in the doghouse, aren’t I?”

“It’s more like you’re on the porch,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Close enough not to cause trouble, but not so far that the rain will chase you out.”

“Oof.”

One of his hands untangled from her hair and lifted the lid off of the pot on the fire. “But if this tastes any good, you  _ may _ sleep on the couch.”

He was still spoiling her, and they both knew it. Truly, the admission gave her the chance to say, “I appreciate it, but we both know I’m not the best at cooking. Best to save my spot on the porch for now, I guess?” She needed to be punished. To suffer for her crimes. 

“Fair enough,” she wished his little smirk didn’t make her feel so relieved. 

It occurred to her later that maybe he did that on purpose. That maybe he spoiled her because she’d never been spoiled. How would he know that she needed such a thing, or even wanted it, when she knew there were plenty of things he needed more? 

She did, actually, try to sleep on the porch. It lasted all of four minutes before Fenris came, the door ajar as he wordlessly stood over her. He was holding something, something black. Satin?

Oh. She’d forgotten her bonnet. 

“Thanks, hon,” she started, but he would not let her have it. No, instead he dangled it, just above her head and out of reach, dodging her swiping for it four or five times. Then, he crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe as he studied her.

“Are you going to act this foolishly all night?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “If that is what you wish, I will not stop you, but Aveline will be here come morning. I doubt you would want her to step on your throat on the way in.” He seemed to be considering the idea, because he murmured, “I wouldn’t.”

“Ave-” She sat up very quickly. Aveline didn’t know where they were staying, or at least she hadn’t when she’d left Varric, so- “Fenris-”

“She’s bringing Bethany,” he added, eyes closing. “So I  _ suggest _ you find your way into a suitable bed to give them a false sense of security in us both.”

Talia sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“I am often told such things, yes,” he half-teased. 

Reluctant and somewhat bothered by not being properly chastised, she crawled up the steps to the master bedroom in a deliberately slow fashion. A part of her wanted to be angry at him for not allowing this, for her to wallow in her own misery until she decided she felt better, shadows chasing her as she slinked into their room and barely refrained from throwing herself onto the mattress. Belligerent and willing to start a fight, she whirled to face him again, realizing suddenly that he was behind her and not waiting downstairs or something. 

She wanted to be embarrassed or fierce with him, crabby enough to argue with him about what she did and did not deserve. Varric’s letter had to have told him what she’d said. What she’d done.

_ “I will stay behind. For my sister.” _

In her heart of hearts, she thanked that stupid, surly Inquisitor. He’d been so violently against leaving her, leaving Stroud, that by his sheer willpower, his  _ spite _ , they’d all made it out alive. She could still feel his magic burning against her flesh, pushing against her own weakness, her destructive impulses.

_ “I won’t have it. I won’t have another of our kind claimed by this monster.” _

There was a lot to unpack there, and as she raised her eyes to look at her husband, his own gaze averted from hers, she realized something important. 

“Fenris,” she started, and when their eyes met it took only a moment to find the other’s arms once more.

It was a lot less awkward to embrace without their armor on; Hawke vaguely remembered their first time in bed with one another, how wonderful and disastrous it had been and the chaos that followed. This, though. This was blissfully different. Every regret she had was swallowed up by the kisses, the gentle nips, the caresses against her skin, the hazy light of late-evening moonlight bathing her and shocking her to her senses at once.

“I think I’m done with outrageous adventures,” she murmured against his shoulder. “All I want to do now is...I don’t know. Start a farm, like father did. Hunt some slavers and take their stuff.”

An approving hum escaped him. “A noble endeavor, though I’m not sure if you have a choice in the matter. Trouble seems to find you regardless. Best to grapple with it and move on.”

She snorted. “You say that all the time.”

“And I’m  _ never _ wrong,” he insisted.

“If you’re never wrong,  _ I’m _ never right.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“An interesting deduction.” He smirked a little bit, stretching just slightly. “But sound, nonetheless.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together. It was easier to tolerate his smugness when she had her wits about her, but he’d made sure she didn’t have that. “You’re impossible.”

“And you say  _ that _ all the time.”

The sound of a sharp knock against the front door stopped them both, Hawke first blinking rapidly as she tried to place what the sound actually was. “...did you hear that?”

A pause. Then a harder knock, akin to the gloved hand of a guardswoman. “Hawke?” Came the muffled voice that sounded a lot like someone who could actually beat her up. “Fenris? Are you in there?”

Talia sat upright, grabbing at their blankets to cover herself before shooting Fenris an incredulous look. “Aveline is here?!”

His deadpan gaze met her. “I did say she was coming.”

“I thought that was to get me off the porch!” She hissed. 

“I never joke about the threat of a guardswoman,” he replied, an amused look in his eyes, nonplussed as he got up to make himself decent. “You should answer the door before she decides our home is best left in splinters.”

It was suddenly clear that  _ this _ was sort of like a punishment- though she was unsure if he’d meant it as such. He did seem to be getting a chuckle out of it, though.

BANG BANG BANG.

“Andraste’s tits-” She tumbled out of bed so quickly that she tripped over the blanket, knocking against all manner of things before she found some underclothes to put on. “I’m coming! Stop knocking!” Then she grabbed her robe and tried to fix her hair a little bit, ignoring the nagging sense that now she had to make herself look presentable in a completely  _ different _ way than before.

“Aveline! Sister! Fancy seeing you here-” She started, but she already knew she was in a world of hurt. Hopefully, Varric wasn’t telling  _ all _ of her business yet, or else she’d be sending a strongly worded letter.

She’d opened the door too quickly, though. In her rush, she hadn’t accounted for Aveline to still be knocking, which successfully translated to bashing Hawke right in the face. It seemed that for all of Fenris’s spoiling, the Maker was making her pay for her sins somehow anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started with that companion bit and a joke from a friend, but it turned into something slightly angst-y. i think it's alright, though, don't you?


End file.
